


6th Year at Hogwarts

by orphan_account



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Joseph Kavinsky is His Own Warning, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A Minister’s son, a squib, a muggleborn, a ghost, plus one Ronan Lynch sounds like the beginning to a bad joke. But really, it’s the beginning of a wonderful friendship.The one in which the gang comes together in their sixth year of school.
Relationships: Noah Czerny/Henry Cheng, Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56





	1. and so it begins

**Author's Note:**

> so I am hopelessly uninspired for my other two fics and I randomly wrote 20,000 words for this in one night. i already have the first five or six chapters complete so expect another chapter tomorrow! 
> 
> i just really love the idea of the gangsey at Hogwarts and there’s a criminally small amount of Hogwarts fics in this fandom, so i impulsively wrote this. tomorrow in the notes I’ll post a clarification of everyone’s houses just in case it’s confusing.

Despite the chill that hung thick in the air, sinking through Ronan’s coat and scarf, the stands were full. Students mulled about, a sea of red and green and blue and yellow. He could barely make out a few makeshift banners and charms in the air. One Hufflepuff waved their arms vigorously every time he flew near and Ronan made a point to ignore him.

Ronan held tight to the nose of his broom, his bat in the other. He’d foregone the customary Gryffindor gloves. This was their first match of the season against Slytherin, and there was no way in hell he was having a pair of gloves hinder his grip.

Even_ if _his fingers were slowly turning numb.

The long-anticipated match had begun with a bang, but slowly fizzled out as time stretched on. Gryffindor was in the lead by twenty points, and the Slytherin chasers missed their last three attempts at the goal.

Carruthers didn’t have much going for him, but he was a hell of a Keeper.

The boy was a total nuisance in all the classes Ronan had the unfortune of sharing with him, but he moved with purpose on the field. He even partially dove off of his broom on the last catch, fingers deflecting the Quaffle a second before it bounced through the rim.

Ronan nosed his broom up, over the sprawling stadium. The bludger flew sporadically through the air and he kept it in sighting distance just in case he needed to send it hurtling towards a Slytherin.

_“ And... Parrish is off. The Slytherin seeker appears to have spotted the Snitch. Meanwhile, Swan is completely fuc- _Sorry professor, _oblivious on the other side of the field. The Gryffindor seeker is making no move to give chase. Is he calling Parrish’s bluff?” _The commentator, none other than Henry Cheng, marveled. The Ravenclaw’s hair seemed to defy both wind an gravity, it was miraculously sticking straight up without a hair out of place.

A few shouts rang out in the stands, the audience cheering. At the site of all the excitement was Adam Parrish, the Slytherin seeker. His secondhand outdated broom was a blur in the air as the blonde ducked over it, hurtling towards the west side of the stadium.

_ “It seems to me this isn’t any bluff, and it appears Swan realizes that too. Parrish is still gaining on the Snitch.”_

Ronan wouldn’t mind sending a Bludger into _his_ face.

Parrish was in his year. He was a prefect, scored top marks in every single class, and was fucking insufferable. They’d had about all of two conversations, unless hissed insults on the Quidditch Pitch counted. He had a superiority complex and was a total pain in the ass to be around. Hell, he couldn’t even make friends within his own House.

A sudden booing broke out as Parrish flew over a sea of red and gold. Ronan hefted his bat and prepared to make a quick swing if he saw him reach for the Snitch.

Prokopenko did the same on the other side of the field, the Slytherin beater staring Ronan down.

_ “And, Parrish has almost got it- oh.”_

For a fraction of a second, an odd look flashed over Adam’s face. His delicate features shifting into an expression Ronan couldn’t place. He pulled his broom up short, and one of his hands reached up to the side of his face.

_ “It seems Parrish has lost track of the Snitch. Odd, really, he looks like he’d had a befuddlement charm cast on him. Gryffindors, I’m looking at you. Oh, don’t boo me.”_

Ronan turned back to the game. Clearly Parrish lost the Snitch and was having some sort of fit over it. Kavinsky and Clancy were battling viciously over the Quaffle.

That’s when Ronan heard the crack. It split through the air of the stadium. Prokopenko’s lip was twisted in a sneer, and he grinned at the Bludger he’d sent hurtling towards Parrish.

Ronan said, “The hell?” Parrish was on Prokopenko’s team. Even if he hated Parrish, it was a gross display of unsportsmanship.

_“Kavinsky is approaching- Oh. Someone’s sent a Bludger after Parrish. Bloody hell, there has to be a rule against that. Assholes. Sorry, Professor, again. I can only filter so much. That’s a dick move, you gotta admit”_

His Bludger zipped around his head. Ronan watched the second Bludger arc after Adam. The boy was utterly oblivious, hand still against his ear. His full lips were parted slightly, his tanned skin pale.

Down below, Kavinsky raced towards the Gryffindor hoops. Carruthers was distracted., and Kavinsky was surely going to score. Unless Ronan stopped him with the Bludger.

The choice weighed at him. Help his own team, or-

_ “Kavinsky dodges the last chaser and throws the ball. Meanwhile, Parrish is about to have a nasty run-in with a Bludger.” _

Adam finally noticed the Bludger. His eyes widened, and he urged his broom on. The Bludger followed his path, gaining traction. There was no way he would outrun it on his shitty model.

Ronan cursed and swung his bat.

Kavinsky scored, leaving just a ten-point difference between the two teams. One more goal could change the tide of the game.

The Bludger, Ronan’s Bludger, hurtled through the air. He channeled all of his strength into that one swing, and it collided heavily with the second Bludger chasing Adam. Both spheres passed over the crowd before orbiting the field again. Prokopenko’s Bludger had been just a few meters from Parrish’s shoulder.

_“Well, Slytherin is only one goal behind Gryffindor, thanks to Kavinsky. Carruthers just barely missed that one. It’s alright, man. Lynch, the Gryffindor beater, just narrowly saved Parrish from a Bludger to the face. You heard it here first, folks. Lynch actually has a heart.”_

The boy froze on his broom, eyes meeting Ronan’s from across the field. His piercing blue eyes narrowed in a silent question, and Ronan wanted to shrug. _I have no idea why I did that either, he thought. _

Clancy’s shout drew his gaze away from Adam, the moment forgotten. “Lynch, what in the hell was that?” His captain waved a hand angrily at the scoreboard.

Ronan dodged a chaser and faced his coach. “I thought-“ The quaffle hissed by his ear, “Thought Parrish had the Snitch. I misjudged.”

_“Clearly,” _Clancy said. He turned back away from Ronan, following a Slytherin chaser. The dismissal didn’t really sting. Clancy was a good Captain, but he’d be easily replaced. The team wouldn’t suffer any losses next year when he graduated.

Kavinsky flew by, a wicked-sharp grin flashed Ronan’s way. Ronan shoulder-checked him. Hard.

“Watch it, Lynch,” Kavinsky snapped. He paused for a moment, “Don’t tell me you’re soft on that mudblood piece of trash.”

“Next time I’ll land you on your fucking ass, Slytherin piece of shit.”

Ronan bit down his steady, all-consuming rage as Kavinsky left. Quidditch had two components. The intelligent, quick-witted that flew around the outskirts. Appraising the game and calculating their moves.

Then there was Kavinsky, he was at the center of every tussle, every heated argument. He was quick to toss insults and even quicker to pull out his wand or throw a fist. He thrived off energy, motion, anger.

_ “Oh, and Parrish is diving. There it is, there’s the snitch! He’s about to- and he has it! Parrish has caught the Snitch. Slytherin wins the match, 220 to 80.”_

A louder roar broke out, and Parrish triumphantly hovered in the center of the field. The Snitch fluttered in his hand, and Ronan wished he could take back his earlier swing. Only one of Adam’s classmates went over to celebrate. The rest of them, including Kavinsky, ignored him and went ahead to the locker room.

Ronan was in and out of the locker room in record time. He could never stand the post-game celebrations (too much sweat and not enough alcohol), but this was ten times worse. Everyone was in a shitty mood after their defeat and a few of them shot him some venom-laced glances.

Ronan stalked out of the pitch with his broom over his shoulder and a sudden desire to punch something. Gansey’s appearance didn’t help.

The Hufflepuff fell into step behind him and clapped him awkwardly on the shoulder. “That was a fantastic game, Lynch.”

“Not really,” he said flatly. Ronan cut through a garden, taking the back way to the Castle. He didn’t really want to deal with anyone right now.

“The whole Parrish situation, what was that about?” Gansey asked.

The question was inevitable, and Ronan didn’t lie. “I don’t know,” he said, because he didn’t. “I meant to hit him too. I thought he had the Snitch. Guess the Bludger had a mind of its own.”

“Really?”

“No. Jesus, Gansey. I don’t know, okay. I just... did. I mean, what kind of shitty teammate attacks his own?”

Gansey looked like he might say more but thought better of it. Instead, he regaled Ronan with the newest information he’d found over the house founders. Not only was his only friend the son of the fucking Minister, he also had a weird fetish for long-dead historical figures.

In his second year, Gansey had told him, he’d snuck out into the Forbidden Forest on a late night excursion. Even as a prepubescent teenage he had a thirst for adventure. The next parts were blurry from time and Gansey’s memory. There had supposedly been a dementor, somehow, on Hogwarts’ grounds and it had nearly killed him.

Then, Gansey claimed the spirit of Helga-fucking-Hufflepuff had saved his life, bringing him back from the brink of death, and that she was secretly alive somewhere in the grounds. Trapped in an eternal slumber or whatever.

It sounded like complete and utter bullshit but Ronan believed every word.

The dining hall was still empty, only a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that hadn’t gone to the game were at their respective tables. Blue Sargent’s curly head of hair was tucked over a textbook.

Ronan took a seat across her, and Gansey did as well. The latter offered her an awkward smile. It hung on his face and awkwardly dropped when Blue didn’t even bother to look up at them.

“Sargent,” Ronan greeted, “Run into a pair of scissors again?” The Ravenclaw was well known for her eccentric style, and her cloak had twice as many holes than the last time he’d seen it, and a mishmash of fabrics glued to it.

Blue set her quill down and sent him a sweet smile. “Lynch,” she said, “Lose a game again?”

News traveled fast, apparently. Ronan opened his mouth to retort, but Gansey cut in, “You should’ve seen him, Blue. He was actually heroic.”

Ronan elbowed him sharply and Blue’s brows disappeared beneath her bangs. “What was that?”

“Dick, I swear-“

“You see, Parrish’s teammate sent a Bludger after him when he accidentally lost sight of the Snitch. It was going to be a nasty collision, but Ronan stopped it at the last minute.” Gansey spoke loudly as he loaded up his plate, and a few first-years turned their heads toward their conversation. Ronan shot them each vicious glares.

“_Ronan? _Our Ronan? This one right here? Buzz-cut and menacing tattoo?” Blue said gleefully.

Ronan engaged in a kicking fight beneath the table. It was futile, really. Blue was wearing her godawful combat boots that gave her an extra two inches, making her look like less of a dwarf. They were also bulky and painful.

Gansey winced as his boat shoes got caught in the crossfire. It was his third pair of the year, the first two having succumbed to fire (possibly from Ronan) and a particularly nasty shrinking curse (possibly from Blue.)

“Really,” he said. “You two are so mature. And I don’t see why you’re ashamed, Ronan. It was very brave what you did.”

With a sick feeling, Ronan realized he’d done exactly what another Gryffindor would have in his situation. “Don’t say that. God, I must look like a fucking pansy.”

“Always do,” Blue said, swiping a bit of his roast off his plate.

Gansey smirked, “Declan would be so proud.”

“I swear to God, Dick. You might be my best friend but I won’t hesitate to hex you on the spot.”

Their banter was suddenly interrupted. The hall had slowly filled up, and both the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams had made their way to the great hall. Blue looked expectantly over his shoulder and someone cleared their throat softly.

Adam Parrish exchanged a nod with Gansey and then looked to him. His mouth contorted painfully, and he looked like he’d eaten something sour. “Gansey, Blue.” He greeted.

The two of them were on speaking terms with Parrish, neither of them knowing him to well. They’d both tried on multiple occasions to recruit him into their group, but the Slytherin was dead-set on being alone. Sixth year and he didn’t have a single friend.

Finally, his gaze landed on Ronan. He could feel his harsh gaze appraising him, and Ronan appraised him right back. His dirty brown hair was a tousled mess, sticking up in disarray. He’d changed into his robes (secondhand, it was obvious), but his plain white shirt peeked out from underneath.

He must’ve been in a hurry. Despite the wear of his clothes, Adam was always elegant. Perfectly knitted tie, tucked in robes ironed to precision, and his collar always folded neatly.

The fabric stuck to a small patch of sweat at the curve of his neck, and Ronan felt his eyes latch there before he forced them back up to the boy’s strange face. Nose a bit too long, eyebrows a bit too faint, lips a bit too pursed.

“Lynch.”

“Parrish.”

There was a heady breath of silence. Neither boy spoke, and then Gansey said, “Adam, that was a wonderful game. Nice catch, by the way. Would you like to join us?”

He frowned just like that was the last thing he’d want to be doing. Parrish had made it clear enough that he had no tolerance for their little group. “That’s alright, I actually just stopped by to talk to Ronan.”

“Well, you going to get on with it then?” Ronan asked. Blue kicked him underneath the table and hissed his name.

Adam swallowed. “Just felt like I owe you thanks for that stunt earlier with the Bludger. It was probably a mistake, but I appreciate it anyway.”

“Is that it?” Ronan asked.

Parrish paled and Gansey cut in. Always so eager to smooth over any altercations with his Hufflepuff goodness. “What he means is- er-“

Blue saved him. “Ronan’s a nuisance to take out in public. We’re still teaching him the whole _human decency_ thing, but I’m starting to think he’s a lost cause.”

Adam huffed a laugh and pasted a smile back on. It was one Ronan recognized from following Gansey to some wizarding convention with his father over the summer. It reeked of fraudulence. “Yeah, well anyway I should get going.”

He looked over to the Slytherin table like he might have someone waiting expectantly for him. He didn’t. “Thanks, Lynch.”

And then Parrish was gone. Off to the end of the Slytherin table by himself, untucking a book from his cloak.

“Why couldn’t you have been nice? Parrish isn’t that bad.” Blue said.

Gansey nodded his agreement. “Since when do the two of you even like him?” Ronan asked.

“He’s my partner in potions for the semester. Nobody else wanted to be my partner because- you know- but Adam did.” Blue replied hotly.

Ronan snorted. “He probably had no other choice, it’s not like his house likes him that much.”

“God, there you go again. You know, you two are kind of in the same boat.”

Ronan snorted. Her words did have a bit of truth him them, except Ronan actively chose not to be friends with anyone in his house.  
Parrish was the opposite. It was a bit of a cruel joke, the fact that the Sorting Hat placed a muggleborn in Slytherin.

“Parrish has been helping me fly,” Gansey said.

“_What?_” Blue and Ronan said in unison. Gansey excelled in all subjects, he was ridiculously wealthy, and he practically had his life paved out for him as a golden brick road.

But he couldn’t fucking fly for the life of him. When Ronan met him last year, he always assumed he didn’t play Quidditch because it didn’t interest him or he was too busy with his weird history pursuits.

One night, him and Kavinsky were in a fight and Ronan was a little drunk. He convinced Gansey to come down to the Quidditch Pitch with him and forced him to race with him.

They never spoke of the night again. The Hogwarts practice broom that Gansey had been riding was still stuck deep within the Whomping Willow and he’d landed himself in the Hospital Wing for three days.

Since then, he’d turned down lessons from both Blue and Ronan. Honestly, Ronan assumed Gansey had just given up on the entire flying thing.

Apparently not.

“When did this even happen?” Ronan asked. The red-hot spike curling in his fit definitely wasn’t jealousy. Ronan didn’t get jealous.

“I’ve been sneaking out at night to the Quidditch Pitch, just practicing the basics. It wasn’t going well,” he said slowly.

“One night, Parrish found me out there. It was awkward, but he helped me with my grip, not like that,” he said to Ronan who had raised his brows obnoxiously, “God, and we just started meeting every night. He’s a splendid teacher, and he’s actually quite funny once you get him to open up, and-“

“You practically sound in love,” Ronan said flatly. It was totally normal and okay, everything. Gansey had plenty of other friends in the other houses. He didn’t let them teach him how to fly, but he had plenty of friends. He wasn’t going to replace Ronan just because Parrish suddenly wormed his way into the picture.

“Have you gone all psycho on him yet? Has he heard your whole Helga Hufflepuff spiel?” Blue asked.

Gansey grinned, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Yes. You’ll never believe it, but he thinks he has a friend who can help.”

-

The first five years Ronan spent into Hogwarts were divided into two sections. There was only before and after. His father died the summer before fourth year. That year was a blur of alcohol and magical substances, tucked away into a corridor with Kavinsky’s hands tracing over his back, the exhilaration of steering his broom up just before he hit the ground.

Him and Kavinsky had a falling out before fifth year started. He couldn’t remember why. Their relationship was a constant push and pull, an argument here and a barbed retort there. It wasn’t rare for them to go entire weeks without talking.

Ronan had showed up on King’s cross with his two brothers. He’d hugged Matthew tightly, even though they were going to the same place, and watched his brother join his other Hufflepuff friends.

Declan was staring forlornly at the train. It was a look he got when Ronan caught him looking through their old family albums, or whenever they visited St. Mungo’s. It was his first official year out of the castle and he had a shiny new job at the Ministry to keep him entertained.

“Stay out of trouble,” he said. Kavinsky and his crew let out a few sharp laughs as they boarded the train. Declan frowned. “And stay away from him.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan said, but not unkindly. The two Lynch brothers appraised each other, and Declan raised a fist wordlessly.

Ronan bumped his fist, hefted his bag over his shoulder, and headed off for the train. He hadn’t yet changed over into his robes, and his signature black tank top showed off the whorls of ink crawling up his neck.

Now the seating issue arose. He couldn’t bother sitting with Kavinsky, not when it would just lead to a half-assed apology or another half-assed argument. All the other Gryffindors were fucking annoying, and he wasn’t going to sit with his goddamn brother. He had a reputation to uphold.

  
They’d gotten to the station a little late (Declan was on the phone with Ashley or work or whatever-the-fuck), and the cars were all full.

Except one.

Everyone in Hogwarts knew Richard Gansey III. He was practically a walking legend amongst teachers and students. The minister’s son, his top marks, and his never ending thirst for all things historical.

He was Ronan’s last choice for anything, but he was now his only choice.

The boy had his head tipped over a notebook, scribbling frantically with a Muggle pen. He also wasn’t wearing his robes, instead a ridiculously bright orange polo that seared itself into Ronan’s retinas and a pair of cargo pants that looked like they’d come right off the front of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog.

Ronan kicked the door open, loudly tossed his trunk in the overhead racks, and then slammed the glass door shut hard enough for it to rattle.

The root of all his issues trickled back to Declan. Fucking Declan. If his brother had never gotten a call. If he hadn’t delayed their rental car. If he hadn’t taken forever to get to King’s cross, Ronan wouldn’t be here sitting next To Richard Cambell Gansey the III.

Richard finally looked up, flashing him an easy-going grin. “Ronan, right. A pleasure. We had History of Magic together last year.”

Ronan couldn’t remember a single History Magic class he hadn’t slept through or been high for. He nodded anyway. “Cool, man.”

He didn’t say, _Is it alright if I sit with you? _or _These seats taken? _ Instead, he lounged across the leather seat across from Richard and curled his tennis shoes up along with him. His IPod and headphones were tucked uselessly away in his bag, rendered unusable by the presence of magic.

He saw Richard shut his book and move it to the side. “Sixth year already, huh? Feels like only yesterday I got the letter in the mail.”

On a list of things that Ronan absolutely despised, small talk would come in at number three. Liars and Declan were one and two, respectively, although they often interchanged.

Ronan wondered if he should get his IPod out anyway, put in the headphones and pretend. “It feels like a fucking century ago. I’m just ready to graduate and leave.”

“No, really? Doesn’t it scare you? Life after Hogwarts?”

Ronan turned his head towards Richard. “Does it scare _you_?” Gansey, the minister son with his perfect grades. His future was practically set in stone. He wouldn’t face a day of discomfort.

The cabin was silent. A few minutes passed. Ronan studied the patterns on the ceiling until his eyes blurred and he had to blink. “Sometimes,” Richard said.

“Jesus, five minutes of knowing each other and we’re already talking about the deep shit.”

Richard laughed, a glorious sound that suddenly morphed his features. He looked younger and more carefree, less of the uptight prick Ronan thought he was.

“Call me Gansey,” he said.

“Alright,” Ronan said. He reached across the divide between them. Gansey stared at his closed fist, a look of confusion across his face.

“I don’t-“

“Bump it.”

“Oh- A fist bump, right? As the Muggles say.”

Gansey and Ronan bumped fists, and the latter went back to staring at the ceiling. He bit at the leather bands on his wrist, and he listened when Gansey asked, “What do you know about the founders of Hogwarts?”

-

“No, you don’t understand. I was in the library,” Gansey’s voice dropped and he scanned the tide of people in the hall, “In the Restricted Section.”

Ronan shouldered his bag over his shoulder and followed Gansey out into the courtyard. “And what? A ghost just popped up out of nowhere and stared you down? It was probably just some first year you scared shitless.”

“It wasn’t,” Gansey said, but he sounded uncertain. “I had my eyes on him the whole time. There one second, then gone the next.”

“Mhm. And what did this ghost look like?”

“I didn’t catch a good glimpse. The entire left side of his face was cast in shadow, but he had blonde hair. A boyish face, and he had Hogwarts robes on.”

“Sounds to me like- hold on.” Ronan left Gansey, cutting across the field to where Kavinsky and his gang hung out on the outskirts of the courtyard. K was in the center of it all, the epicenter. His robes foregone for a white tank top, his hair mussed.

He really hoped Gansey didn’t follow him.

Ronan elbowed his way through the crowd, his sole attention focused on Kavinsky. His brows raised, “Back more more already- huh.”

Ronan fisted his fingers through his shirt and shoved him hard against the wall. Kavinsky’s sneer fell from his face, and his composure slipped for a second.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Kavinsky sucked in a long breath and gave him a half-deranged grin. “I see you found the gift I left for you.”

Ronan punched him. His knuckles throbbed in protest and a faint red mark bloomed across Kavinsky’s cheek. “You’re a sick bastard, you know that?”

“You really should look into reinforcing your room. It’s all too easy to bribe a second year for the portrait’s password.”

Ronan smashed his fist into his stomach. “I swear to God, if you go into my room again I’ll kill you.”

Prokopenko stepped forward. “Kavinsky,” he said uncertainly.

Kavinsky waved a hand. “Back off, boys. I can handle Lynch. All bark, no bite.”

  
Ronan stepped back, knuckles still smarting. His temper was still nowhere near quenched.

“_I’ll kill you_,” he repeated. He tugged the tire iron out from beneath his robe and tossed it at his feet.

When he’d woken up and spotted it- his mind stopped functioning. All he could focus on was the smooth metal of the tire iron, the sharp glint of it. It was smaller, but it still left a sick taste in his mouth.

It was the first thing his eyes had been drawn to, that morning two years ago. The sun had barely scratched the horizon, and a golden patch of sunlight had bounced off it and seared itself into Ronan’s retinas.

Then he’d seen the blood.

Ronan turned his back and shoved his way out of the crowd that had gathered around them. They’d jumped at the first sight of blood like hungry sharks, and slowly drifted away when it became apparent there would be no brawl.

Gansey was waiting for him underneath the oak tree, right where he’d left him. His disapproving gaze locked onto his spilt and bruising knuckles, and then the spatter of blood against his shirt.

“Ronan,” he began, but Ronan pushed past him and headed towards the lake.

Gansey caught up quickly, “What was that about?”

“Kavinsky’s an asshole.” He left it at that, and the two of them silently made their way to their familiar trail around the lake. The wind was bitterly cold, rolling off the choppy waves. Gansey pulled his Hufflepuff scarf tighter around his neck and narrowed his eyes.

Ronan occasionally would pick up a rock, offering one or two to Gansey, and they would skip it over the water.

They’d been this way ever since they’d become friends last year. Conversation wasn’t necessary for them to hang out. The two of them had spent countless sleepless nights at the library. Ronan typically being bored, practicing spells on the books, and Gansey researching his current magical conquest or catching up on schoolwork.

Gansey lost himself, deep in thought as he stared over the lake. His elegant hair was just barely tousled by the wind. One perfect stray hair had escaped across his forehead, brushing the tip of his knitted brows.

Ronan had a sudden, blinding desire to brush it away.

He elbowed him in the ribs instead. “What are you doing tonight?”

Gansey turned to him, “The usual, I suppose. I have that one Potions assignment to finish up, and then I found some new texts that could possibly be related to the founders.”

Ronan shook his head. “No you don’t,” he said.

“Hm?”

“We’re going ghost hunting, Dick. Let’s see if the library’s actually haunted or if you’ve truly lost your mind.”

Gansey’s brows flew up. “Are you serious?” he asked, barely containing his excitement.

“Why the fuck not?” Ronan said.

-


	2. ghost hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinda short, sorry. It just didn’t make sense for me to add another scene, but chapter 3 will be extra long.  
also  
slytherin: adam, kavinsky, prokopenko (that is definitely spelt wrong)  
ravenclaw: blue, henry, noah  
gryffindor: ronan, tad carruthers, and swan  
hufflepuff: gansey and matthew
> 
> also there will probably be some random OC’s lumped in just because Quidditch scenes are a pain to write with a bunch of nameless characters.

Ronan shoved off the doorway the minute he hears the statue scrape to the side. At first he’d been annoyed by having to meet up all the way by the Hufflepuff entrance but then he remembered the kitchen was just around the corner. As well as the easily persuaded House Elves. 

A bottle of whiskey hung out of his hand, one he may or may not have bribed aforementioned house elves for. If Blue didn’t have a Charms essay to do she likely would’ve been here lecturing him about _ forcing the elves to cater to his every whim _or whatever.

“You can’t be serious,” Ronan said flatly as Gansey emerged from behind the statue. 

The details of his robe were charmed away and it was unbelievably black. The bright yellow Hufflepuff crest was gone, and he was completely covered up. “What’s wrong with it?” He asked. 

“We’re ghost hunting, not fucking robbing the place,” Ronan said. 

Gansey pulled his hood over his head and frowned. Dark circles were prominent against his under-eyes but he looked more awake than he had in weeks. 

“Better to be safe than sorry,” he said. “I can’t risk a teacher spotting me. Do you even _know_ what that will do for my Head Boy campaign?”

Ronan snorted. “It’d be a travesty.” 

Gansey’s eyes locked on to the bottle of alcohol and he frowned. “Where do you even get that stuff?”

“I have my ways.”

“God, Lynch. Just get rid of it. Even being in possession of alcohol is fifty house points.”

“And I care, why?” Gryffindor had won the house cup for the past thirty years or some shit. Without his brother here to supervise his every move, Ronan fully intended to lose a record amount of points. In Whelk’s class alone he could probably lose a hundred just by being his usual charming self. 

Gansey glared at him.

Ronan rolled his eyes and tucked the alcohol away in his coat. “Happy?” 

The two of them set off down the corridor, taking the back way to the library. “How do we even know this ghost will be there? We’re at the library nearly every night, how could we never see him before?”

“I don’t... I’m not quite sure. All I know is that I saw him standing there with my own eyes.”

Ronan squinted at him. “Are you sure he wasn’t just a product of your lack of sleep? Remember that time you went batshit crazy, convinced that Cheng was a werewolf.”

“That was a _long _time ago.”

“It was last year.”

Gansey changed the subject. “I _know _what I saw. I’m telling you-“

There was a faint sound of footsteps on the stairwell next to them, steadily growing louder. The two of them halted just before the wrought-iron doors of the library. 

Somebody was coming. 

Ronan swore and grabbed the sleeve of Gansey’s shirt. “Hide.”

The two of them crouched in a shadowy eave together. A tapestry just barely covered them, and they were shoved shoulder to shoulder. Gansey’s eyes were wide. “This was a bad idea. This was a bad idea-“ he muttered to himself.

Ronan was pointedly not noticing the way all of the glorious inches of Gansey’s thigh were pressing against his. He also wasn’t noticing the way his hair brushed against his neck. The hallway was dark, and he could just make out the sharp lines of his profile. 

Definitely not noticing.

The footsteps halted, and then began again. Ronan saw a dim shadow appear around the corner. The person was coming towards them.

Gansey kept up a steady whisper of his thoughts. “We are so _screwed. _I swear to God, if someone catches us out-“

The figure came into their view, and Ronan bit his lip. Of _fucking course, _Parrish had to be out at this hour. He probably had to read up on _How to be a Douchebag 101. _

He wasn’t in his typical Hogwarts garb, just a faded Coca Cola tshirt (some Muggle drink filled with carbonation and unhealthy shit), and a pair of jeans. They were grease-stained, and were patched shoddily at the knee. 

“It’s just Adam,” Gansey whispered. “He won’t mind us.” The two of them watched as he opened the doors to the library, chanced a glance back down the hallway, and slipped inside.

Gansey looked to Ronan uncertainly. “We don’t have to go tonight, if you don’t want to.”

They waited a minute. Two. Ronan started forward, casting a silent spell on the doors before he was kicking them open. “Did you see the look on his face? Parrish is up to something,” Ronan said.

Gansey hesitated. “I don’t think we should _spy _on him. He’s my friend.”

“I do,” Ronan said. “You reckon we’ll find the teachers’ golden boy in the restricted section? Or maybe with his nose in one of those trashy romance novels.”

Gansey frowned but followed him in. They walked through the shelves quietly, and Ronan peered down each one. Parrish was nowhere in sight. “The back? By the head desk,” Gansey suggested. 

Ronan nodded. Finally, they heard a faint conversation from the back of the library, at one of the back tables where students studied. Gansey pulled him into a shelf just before the tables and they crouched before a set of books. Hidden in plain sight. 

Ronan shifted a few Herbology novels aside and peered through the slit. Gansey did the same and sucked in a sharp breath. Ronan took a minute to process the sight before him.

Adam sat by himself at a table, a pile of books balanced precariously on the table next to him. 

No, that wasn’t right. The light from the brazier flickered, and there was a second boy sitting crosslegged on the table. He was talking animatedly to Adam, his gaunt hands waving enigmatically through the air. Adam’s face was surprisingly open, and his head tipped back in laughter at something the other boy said. 

This Adam was different than the tired, focused Adam in his classes. Or even the intense, passionate Adam on the field. Happiness flitted across his features oddly. Ronan couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen Parrish happy. 

“Do you recognize him?” Ronan asked. 

The boy in question didn’t seem to be fully _there. _As the light would shift, so would he. He looked like an old portrait, like he’d been leeched of color. 

“That’s him,” Gansey said, marveling.

“What?”

“That’s the ghost! The one I saw last night.” Gansey’s leg shifted, and he knocked over a stack of books next to him.

Adam’s head shot up, and he eyed the library warily. “Did you hear that?” He asked.

The other boy looked immediately to where Ronan and Gansey were hiding, like he’d known they were there all along. Now that Ronan knew he was a ghost, it was obvious. His robes were an old outdated style, and his Ravenclaw tie was faded to a dull grey-blue. He looked like he’d walked out of a black-and-white photograph. 

The ghost’s voice carried over the library. “I think we’re being spied on,” he said slowly.

Gansey emerged from the shelves with his hands up jokingly and his easygoing smile plastered across his face. Ronan came up behind him with a scowl.

It took them five minutes to smooth over their rocky introduction. By then, Gansey was best buddies with the ghost (_Noah Czerny, Hogwarts class of 1980), _and he already knew Adam. The two of them were apparently best friends or something. Ronan claimed the fourth and final chair as his own and kicked his feet up against the desk, nudging a few of Adam’s papers aside.

“Excuse you,” Adam said coldly. The two of them hadn’t ever properly talked about that moment on the Quidditch field when Ronan saved him from his teammate’s rogue Bludger, unless an awkward conversation in the Great Hall counted. It was clear Adam still held some animosity from the event by the way he glared at him. Ronan couldn’t fathom why, but didn’t particularly care to find out. 

Him and Parrish had gone five years without having to become acquainted with each other, they could last two more. 

“Noah,” Gansey said. “I don’t mean any offense, of course, but how did- well. How did you become a... ghost?”

Even as someone with next to zero social edicate skills, Ronan assumed that violated some_ Proper Ways to Speak to the Undead _handbook out there. 

“Jesus,” he remarked. 

“That’s all right, Noah. You don’t have to explain.” Adam frowned. 

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I remember I was in my seventh year. I snuck out of the dorms one night and down to the Forbidden Forest, and you already know what happened next.

Ronan whistled, while Gansey looked completely put out. “Damn. They bash your brains in too?” 

The entire left side of his coat was drenched in blood, and a smudge darkened the side of his face. Something blunt had struck him repeatedly. Ronan felt bile rise in the back of his throat. It was all to similar to his father.

Gansey and Adam both latched twin glares onto him. It was a wonder they hadn’t become friends sooner, they were two sides of the same coin. “Ronan,” they said in unison. Gansey with disapproval and Adam with pure distaste. 

“He did,” Noah said. “With a rock. Six times, or was it seven? You lose count, you know.” He let out a harsh laugh.

Gansey frowned. “You got a good look at them, right? Did they ever catch him?”

“He was my friend,” Noah said. His face was drawn as he slipped back into the past. “I couldn’t- They never-“

Ronan frowned. “Some friend.”

Noah continued. “He told the Headmaster I was homesick and flooed back home. My parents just assumed I ran away, I guess. But nobody ever came looking. He got away with it.”

“Who is he?” Gansey asked. “We could help you get justice. He deserves to rot in Azkaban for this.”

Adam shook his head, “Ive tried before, it’s useless. He can’t say.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Ronan asked. 

An odd expression flashed across Noah’s face. For a second, he was a writhing mass of flesh and blood and bones, and then back to a boy. For that split second, he looked distinctly inhuman. 

“The fuck?” Ronan said.

Adam glared at him. Again. “Never seen a dead person before?”

Yes, he had. “Oh, fuck off Parrish. You can’t tel me that shit is normal. He’s fucking dead.”

Noah sat with an eerie stillness, looking more ghostly than he had in the short time Ronan had known him. “Noah?” Gansey tried.

Every single lantern and dim fire in the brazier flickered, and went out. An eerie chill crept up the back of Ronan’s neck and he could see Adam flinch. The only source of light was the moonlight through the window and the faint glow surrounding Noah.

“He’s in the castle,” Noah said. 

And then, Noah was gone.

The three remaining boys looked at each other. Adam looked shocked by Noah’s parting words. “I think we upset him,” Gansey said.

Adam pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “No shit,” he exclaimed. “Just go up to a ghost and asked him how he died, huh? Seems like a great idea.” 

“I didn’t mean any harm.”

Adam scoffed. “No,” he agreed. “You didn’t, which is even worse. You two are so self-absorbed you don’t give a damn about how your actions affect anyone else.” 

Adam gathered up the rest of his books. One slid from the stack and thudded to the floor, but he made no move to pick it up. Gansey looked utterly dismayed, either at Adam’s anger or the blatant distreatment of a library book. 

“Jesus, man. It’s not that big of a deal,” Ronan said. 

Adam bit his lip, and his voice came out cracked. “Okay. Whatever. Just-“ It sounded very much like the voice of someone who was trying not to cry. Or scream. Ronan couldn’t tell.

“What did he mean, his killer is still in the castle?” Ronan asked. 

It was the wrong thing to say. Adam shot them both one last venomous look, snapped, “It isn’t any of your business,” and left the library. The door slammed shut loud enough to resonate through the entire room, dust drifting off a few shelves.

Gansey looked at Ronan. “Well,” he said, “that was something.”

Ronan frowned. “Jesus,” he said in agreement. “You think that was the friend Adam was talking about? The one with information on the founders?”

“He did, _oh-_“ Gansey exclaimed. “You think that was him? It makes sense, if you think about it. He has to know something if he’s spent the past thirty something years wandering around the school.”

Ronan shrugged. He had a lot to contemplate, mainly Adam’s attitude problem and this new Noah development. He wasn’t too keen on unpacking all of the night’s events. Instead, he pulled the bottle of whiskey from his coat.

For a moment, he thought Gansey would reprimand him. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll hex you,” he said before he wrapped his fingers around the bottle and drank deeply.


End file.
